


Move You

by daunt, ladybubblegum



Series: Lovesong [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Consent Issues, Protective Malia, Protective Scott, it doesn't go far, not even a hint of stalia but pro-malia, someone says no and it's ignored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:39:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt/pseuds/daunt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybubblegum/pseuds/ladybubblegum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The McCall pack is invited to a werewolf party and that goes about as well as you'd think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move You

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place about six months after 3b, and ignores like 99% of season 4.
> 
> I worked with the exceptionally amazing artist Daunt on this story, who drew all of the illustrations here--she also made the title/end cards and the divider, which were a complete surprise! You should definitely go send her some love [on tumblr](http://daunt.tumblr.com)!

Beacon Hills was quiet for six months after.

It was nice, being just teenagers for a while. Scott’s pack hadn’t really had the time to be a pack. With everything happening so quickly and with Allison’s death still new and raw, they were all grateful for the break.

Scott would always love Allison, he would always cherish the time he had with her, and he would always mourn her death, but the pain of it was losing its sharpness with each passing day. The darkness around his heart felt a little darker, but he was pretty sure he’d feel that even without the Nemeton’s interference. But life marched on, and reluctantly, heartbrokenly, so did Scott.

School letting out for the summer was a blessing, even more so than usual. While Stiles had bounced back after everything that had happened, at least as far as school was concerned, he’d still struggled to keep his grades up. All the absences had taken a toll on his classes.

The picnic was Kira’s idea.

“I’m just saying,” she’d told him a few days after the start of summer break, sitting sideways on his mother’s favorite living chair, controller in hand as she kicked his ass in Call of Duty, “Now that you and Malia aren’t super busy playing catch up, it might be fun to all do something together. We could all bring food, Lydia had this really cool portable iPod speaker, I could even try to dig out my frisbee. We could totally make a day of it!” She grinned at him as she nailed another headshot. “It’ll be fun!”

She wasn’t wrong. They claimed a section of the large local park for themselves and spread out. Scott had brought a big blanket for them to rest on and they laid it out under a shady tree. Not only had Kira brought her frisbee, she’d also brought a soccer ball and a few baseballs, and Stiles brought along his bat.

Even Derek showed up, with some prodding from Scott and Lydia. He mostly just sat around and ate, but they eventually coaxed him into a game of baseball. The day seemed perfect.

Stiles should have realized, when the entire pack aside from him and Lydia suddenly froze and whipped their heads in the direction of a man approaching them from the other side of the park, that they shouldn’t have gotten so relaxed.

He was maybe about 30, 6 feet tall, sandy blonde hair falling around his ears. As he got closer, he held his hands up and smiled, no doubt feeling the anxiety from the wolves.

Scott moved in front of the others, so he was closest to the man. Malia, claws out, moved to stand beside Stiles and Lydia.

“Werewolf,” she muttered to him. “Might not be friendly.”

“Of course,” Lydia sighed, crossing her arms, “We can’t get one day of relaxation in this town.”

They turned their heads back towards the man, who now stood in front of Scott.

“I mean no harm,” the man said. “I’m sorry for startling you. Are you Scott McCall?”

“I am,” Scott replied tersely, “Why?”

“My name is Andrew Kinsey. My pack is moving through this town, and we’ll be here a few days,” the man, Kinsey, explained. “I thought it would be best if I reassured you that we mean no harm, should your pack run into any of mine while we’re here. And I thought I might extend an invitation. We reserved a spot on the beach tomorrow night--pack tradition, we have a bonfire whenever we move through somewhere with a beach. I would love if your pack would join us.” Kinsey’s eyes scanned them. “The non-wolves and your emissary are welcome as well.”

“Emissary?” Scott echoed. “I don’t--”

“We would be honored to attend,” Derek cut him off, glaring. “Right, Scott?”

Scott looked back at him like he had grown two heads. “Uh...yeah, sounds like fun.”

“Excellent!” Kinsey grinned. “We look forward to having you. It’s strictly non-formal, so wear what you’d like. Don’t worry about food or refreshments, there will be plenty. See you tomorrow.” And with that, he turned, and left.

The second he was gone, Scott turned to Derek. “What the hell? We don’t even know them! For all we know, they’re planning on ambushing us the second we get there.”

“They’re not,” Derek replied. “I know that pack. They don’t stay in one place for too long, and that’s probably a good thing, because it’s massive. Last I heard from them, there were seventy-five wolves in that pack, both turned and born. They’re mostly peaceful and keep to themselves, but you don’t offend an alpha with that kind of power. That on top of the fact that he knew who you were and sought you out...”

Scott sighed. “What was that about an emissary? I don’t have an emissary.”

“They probably assumed Stiles was,” Derek said, jerking his head in Stiles’ direction. “The only human in a pack of weres? It’s a logical conclusion.”

“So…” Kira drew out, “are we going to a _werewolf party_?” She was clearly holding back an excited grin.  
  
Scott shrugged. “We’re...going to a werewolf party.”

The party was nothing like Stiles was expecting.

It looked more like the college keggers he’d seen in movies than a serious gathering of powerful supernatural creatures. The Kinsey pack had taken over the beach, coolers and blankets and people everywhere. Music was blasting from a large speaker. Someone was cooking something that smelled delicious at one of the park barbeques installed by the city a few years back. There was even a large bonfire in the middle of everything.

Kira was practically vibrating next to him. He couldn’t help but start to feel excited too.

“Scott!” Kinsey called from their left. He bounded up to them, clapping Scott on the shoulder and flashing a grin at their group. “I’m so glad you made it. Make yourselves comfortable, there’s plenty of food if you’re hungry. One of my betas even brews her own beer--special blend.” He winked at Scott, still grinning. “It’s in the coolers, help yourselves to as much as you’d like. It’s quite strong, though, so enjoy it slowly.”

Kira and Malia grinned at each other and ran off. Stiles made a mental reminder to keep an eye on them. Those two got into enough trouble together sober, adding alcohol would either result in hilarity or bloodshed. Maybe both. If anything, it would definitely be entertaining.

“Scott, would you care to join me?” Kinsey asked, “I would love to hear more about your pack.”

They split up, and everyone went in a different direction. Stiles scanned the beach, suddenly self-conscious. Derek wasn’t lying about the size of the pack. At least fifty people were there. He wasn’t really a party person, all told, especially with Scott not by his side as built-in company. He glanced over at the alpha, who was already locked in conversation with Kinsey, sitting in one of the patio chairs laid out haphazardly along the beach.

“Hey.”

He turned to see a girl, maybe 19, smiling at him. She was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way, long brown hair that reached her elbow, wearing a t-shirt and cutoff jean shorts. She didn’t have any makeup on aside from a thin layer of what looked like lipgloss.

“Uh. Hi?” Stiles mentally facepalmed. Smooth.

“Do you wanna come sit with us?” the girl asked, gesturing over to a few chairs on the other side of the bonfire, where a few other girls were sitting, looking over at them. “We claimed a cooler all to ourselves.”

Stiles grinned. “Sounds good.”

Stiles was a hit with the girls.

Ashley, the one who had invited him to join them, and her friends Anna, Gina, and Heather, hung on his every word. Part of him wished high school was more like this; other than Scott, his other classmates mostly left him alone. Since grade school, he was known as that weird kid with ADHD whose father was the sheriff. Being noticed like this was nice.

“So, you’ve always lived here?” Ashley asked him. “Like, you’ve never lived anywhere else?”

“Nope. Beacon Hills, born and raised,” he replied with a wink. “My family is Polish, though, we used to visit sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine being in one place for that long,” Heather sighed. “I was born into the pack. We’ve always been moving.”

“So how do you feel about guys?” Ashley cut in suddenly.

Stiles was thrown by the sudden non-sequitur. “Uh, what?”

“Oh my god, Ash,” Gina chastised, giggling.

“What?” Ashley turned back to him, dropping her voice. “One of our guys is totally checking you out.”

“Checking me out?” Ashley pointed in a direction to his left. Sure enough, there was a guy standing about thirty feet away, looking at them. Their eyes locked and Stiles felt his cheeks heat up a little. From this distance, the guy looked a little like Derek, broad-shouldered and dark-haired. He turned back to the girls.

“So,” Ashley started, drawing out the word. “Are you? Like, into guys?”

Stiles flailed a little, unsure how to answer. “I’m not...not into guys?”

“Well, if you’re looking to experiment, Brian is definitely a good candidate,” Gina said around a toothy grin.

Ashley gasped and grabbed Stiles’ arm. “He coming over!” she whispered. “Oh, I am so jealous. The cute ones are always taken or gay.”

They all snickered at that, and Stiles felt like he was on the outside of an inside joke.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Stiles looked up from the girls to see the guy smiling down at him. Butterflies swarmed Stiles’ stomach, but he smiled back and awkwardly patted the arm of the empty beach chair next to him. “Uh, sure, if you want.”

If the guy was pretty from afar, he was devastating up close. He looked even more like Derek than Stiles had thought--was the rugged 90’s antihero look a thing with werewolves?

“Thanks.” The guy grinned at him and sat down, then offered his hand. “I’m Brian.”

Stiles took it and shook. “Stiles.”

Brian’s eyebrows rose in the same surprised expression everyone had when they first heard his nickname. “That’s an interesting name.”

“I’m an interesting guy,” Stiles retorted, shrugging. Brian laughed.

His chair wasn’t extremely close to Stiles’, but the way his forearm draped across the side of the chair put their fingers close enough to brush against each other, and it sent sparks up his hand. The butterflies swarmed again, more intense.

“I’m sure you are,” Brian agreed, still smiling even as the fingers grew bolder, lightly running up his hand to his wrist.

Now this was something that Stiles had never had the opportunity to explore. He’d never really had feelings for any specific guy (save for maybe Scott--there had been more than one jerk-off fantasy dedicated to his best friend and his tendency to shower at Stiles’ house. Not that Scott would ever be privy to this.). And he couldn’t even say for sure whether he was really interested in guys or if he just wanted to know what it would be like to kiss one.

He didn’t exactly have a whole lot of candidates to test the waters with. The only gay guy he knew was Danny, and while he’d caught himself sneaking a peek in the locker room a few times, things with Danny were already weird. He didn’t need to go making it worse. The only other person he could think of was Scott, and even if Stiles didn’t know he was straight, making out with your best friend seemed like crossing a line. There were too many feelings involved.

He needed someone he was attracted to, and who was attracted to him. He needed someone he didn’t have feelings for. Someone who wouldn’t care if he ended up not being into guys after all.

Someone like Brian. Maybe.

“So...how long have you been in Kinsey’s pack?” he asked, not sure how to break the ice.

“I was bitten about a month ago,” Brian replied. “I’m from Seattle, originally. How long have you been working with the McCall pack? You all seem as new to this as I am.”

“Oh, Scott and I have been best friends since we were in, like, kindergarten,” Stiles said, grinning. “He was bitten about a year ago.”

“You’re a good friend, to stick with him,” Brian told him, and Stiles felt a rush of warmth in his cheeks at the compliment. “Do you...have a girl?”

The question was sudden, but not completely unanticipated, and he heard the girls from earlier giggle and move away from them, not discreet in the slightest. Malia flashed in his mind, but only briefly. They were just friends. “No, no girl.”

“A boy?” Brian’s fingers slipped in between Stiles’ own, squeezing.

“Nope.”

Brian tilted his head at him. “That’s a surprise. Guy as cute as you.”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly--”

He was cut off by Brian leaning over suddenly and pressing their lips together, one hand at the back of his head. He was frozen from shock, at first, because damn, did Brian move fast, but he got his bearings back quickly enough to kiss back before Brian started to think the kiss wasn’t wanted.

It was nice, until the awkward position started to put a strain on Stiles’ back. He pulled away slow, and Brian grinned at him, eyes half-lidded and pupils dilated.

“Maybe we can find somewhere a little more...private?” Brian asked, glancing around at the crowd Stiles had forgotten were there. Stiles nodded, not trusting his brain to come up with something that wouldn’t sound stupid.

Brian took his hand and pulled him up. He guided them to the small brick building that housed the restrooms. There was a small space between the building and a few large bushes that Brian pulled them into.

Brian’s mouth was soft but insistent as he pressed Stiles back against the brick and brought their mouths together again, hands tight on Stiles' hips, pulling him in even closer. Brian's hair was rough between Stiles' fingers, stiff with product.

It was perfect, at first.

He didn’t realize Brian’s hands had started to move until his palm was on Stiles’ ass, pushing their hips together. He was hard against Stiles’ thigh. Just like that, he wasn’t so sure about this. He was curious, yeah, but he just met this guy. And even if he did, he was pretty sure this would still be way further than he wanted to go.

He pushed back on Brian’s chest. Brian didn’t go far, but he did back off enough for Stiles to speak. “Look, I don’t think…”

“What’s wrong?” Brian asked, frowning. He kept a hand on Stiles’ hip under his shirt, thumb rubbing circles into his skin above the waistband of his jeans. Stiles squirmed.

“I think I should probably check in with Scott.” It wasn’t totally a lie; since the thing with the nogitsune, Scott got anxious when he didn’t hear from Stiles in a while. But Brian just smiled and pressed him back again.

“It’ll be fine, he knows you’re safe here,” he said, hand sliding up Stiles’ side. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll make you feel so good…”

He pushed up against him harder, trapping him against the wall, and attached his mouth to Stiles’ neck. Stiles tensed, his chest getting tight, making it hard to breathe--he was beginning to panic.

“Get off me!” he yelled as he braced his hands against Brian’s chest and shoved as hard as he could. Brian moved back enough for Stiles to get in a breath, but then Brian’s eyes flashed yellow.

Three things happened very quickly. First, Brian grabbed Stiles’ arms and pushed him back against the wall, hard. Pain blossomed from the back of his head as it hit the brick. Second, Brian’s claws flashed out just barely against his arms and dug into his skin.

Two seconds later, Brian was on the ground thirty feet away from him.

Scott was in front of him, frowning, one hand on his shoulder. “Stiles, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His head hurt and he felt dizzy and a little nauseous. “I’ll be okay...maybe a concussion?”

Scott whirled around to where Brian was getting to his feet. He growled, low and dangerous, and was suddenly gone, stalking over to the beta.

“Scott, wait!” Stiles ran after him as best as he could. When he caught up, Scott was toe to toe with a scowling Brian, whose arms were crossed in front of him. Stiles tried to get between them, to separate them, but Scott threw out an arm and pushed him back.

“What happened?” It was Kinsey, looking nearly as angry as Scott as he grabbed his beta by the shoulder and pulled him back. Brian moved reluctantly.

They’d attracted a crowd. Most of Kinsey’s pack had come over with him to see what the commotion was. All of their people were there, as well. Malia was closest to them, her eyes bright blue and her claws extended; she must have heard Stiles’ shout as well. She was pissed, she’d been drinking, and her control was still shaky. Not good.

“He attacked Stiles,” Scott growled. His eyes glowed red and Stiles could see his face beginning to shift.

“I didn’t attack anyone! He freaked out out of nowhere,” Brian shot back, glaring at him. Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but Scott beat him to it.

“He’s bleeding and probably has a concussion! Don’t tell me nothing happened.” Now Stiles could see Derek and Kira, pushing through the crowd, closing in around them, tensing for a fight. Kira was instinctively reaching for the katana sheath that she hadn’t brought with her. This was getting out of hand, quickly.

“Scott,” Kinsey broke in quietly, “I’m terribly sorry for this. You know I never intended for your people to get hurt.”

Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, well, you know what they say about good intentions and the road to hell.”

“I apologize. Brian is newly turned, and his impulse control is weak.” At Stiles’ glare, Kinsey held up a palm, “Which doesn’t excuse his behavior in the slightest. Scott, you have my blessing to exact whatever punishment you deem appropriate.”

Brian’s jaw dropped. “ _What_?”

Kinsey turned to him, glaring. “You’ve been an arrogant, egotistical jackass since the moment I turned you. Believe me, anything he deals you, you’ve more than earned.” He turned back to Scott, bit out, “He’s all yours,” and stepped back.

There was a tense moment in which everyone was still, waiting. Scott’s claws were out, and Stiles could see his fingers twitch. He took a step forward, and Brian’s eyes grew wide as he uncrossed his arms and cowered, slightly. With a shock, Stiles realized Scott was actually considering it. Scott, who resisted killing Jackson even when he was actively murdering people, was thinking about beating down someone who’d done little more than give Stiles a bump on the head.

“Scott,” he called, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezing. “C’mon, I’m fine. He’s not worth it.”

“He hurt you,” Scott growled back around sharp fangs. Stiles tightened his hand around his shoulder, physically pulling Scott back.

“I’m fine, I just wanna go home. Can we just leave?” Scott turned to him, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

“Okay,” Scott said, finally, “Let’s go.”

The drive home was awkward.

The most difficult to remove from the party was Malia, who was itching for a fight and who didn’t really care why that was a bad idea, was dropped off first. After that, the group was tense and quiet, probably acting off the vibes from Scott. Stiles didn’t need werewolf senses to know that the guy was radiating fury.

Scott had driven them all there in his mother’s car, to save gas, and he left Stiles for last. He pulled up in front of the Stilinski’s house and put the car into park. Neither of them moved to get out.

“Stiles, I’m sorry,” Scott began. Stiles shook his head.

“It really isn’t your fault.”

“It is, though,” Scott insisted. “I never should have agreed to this in the first place. I knew something was going to happen.”

“Nothing really happened!” Stiles cried. “The guy was a grade-A asshole, yeah, and he got a little rough with me, but I’m okay. You were about to beat him down for nothing.”

“He tried to _force himself on you_.”

“At the end, maybe,” Stiles conceded. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I definitely didn’t want my head bashed against a brick wall. The rest of it was consensual, though.”

If you’d stuck Scott with lightning, he wouldn’t look as shocked as he did then. “You’re...into guys? Like, you’re interested in guys?”

“Kinda. Maybe.” None of the answers sounded right. “Yeah, I guess I’m into guys. I just, I wanted to try making out. To make sure.”

“You could’ve asked me.” Of all the things Stiles expected to come out of Scott’s mouth right then, that was firmly at the bottom of the list.

“What?”

“Dude, I went out into the middle of the woods with you to find half of a dead body. If you were curious, you could have come to me.” Scott smiled. Stiles felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye the next day. Maybe the next year. The whole point of Brian was having someone who I wouldn’t have any feelings for and who wouldn’t care if I ended up hating it.” Stiles sighed. “Guess that backfired. I need like a million hours of sleep. Call me tomorrow.” He climbed out of the car and wished Scott goodnight over his shoulder. Scott drove away without responding.

It wasn’t until he got to his room that he realized what he said.

_Someone who I wouldn’t have feelings for._

He didn’t sleep that night.

The next day, Scott showed up in his kitchen around late afternoon, as Stiles was contemplating lunch.

“Kinsey came to see me,” was Scott’s greeting. Apparently, they weren’t talking about their conversation last night. “He kicked Brian out of the pack.”

It sounded like good news to Stiles, but Scott announced it like it was a death toll.

“That’s...good?” he asked.

“This guy already hurt you and now he’s got a reason to be pissed off at me,” Scott explained, frowning. That made sense. “Keep your eyes open. Do you have plans today?”

“Besides a shitload of Netflix and Call of Duty? Not really.”

“Good,” Scott said, nodding. “Keep everything locked. I’ve got my phone with me, call if anything. I have to warn the others. We should probably lay low until we’re sure we’re clear.”

The way Scott made it sound, the apocalypse was approaching. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? It’s just one werewolf.”

“I’d rather err on the side of no one getting hurt,” Scott replied tensely. “I’ll be back later tonight. Be careful?”

Before Stiles could respond, he was out the door. It was strange behavior for Scott, but Stiles chalked it up to the fact that it had been so long since they’d seen any action. Clearly, they were out of practice.

As promised, he spent the rest of his day with games and movies, keeping half an eye on his phone for any news from Scott. There wasn’t any, except a short message that he’d be at the house by ten.

At around 9, he wandered into the kitchen in search of dinner. His father was working a late shift that night, and wouldn’t be home until at least 2, so Stiles was left to fend for himself. The fridge was, predictably, bare. There weren’t even any pizza rolls left. Unless he wanted rice for dinner (with no butter or seasonings), he’d have to go to the store.

Scott’s warning rang in his head. It was just a quick trip. He’d be back before Scott showed, and there’d be food for the both of them. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and headed out for the jeep.

His hand was halfway to the lock when something barrelled into his back.

Or rather, someone.

Brian’s clawed hand wrapped around Stiles’ throat and pulled him back against a firm chest. The claws dug into his skin--not enough to seriously injure him, but just enough that Stiles was pretty sure it drew blood. Every instinct told him to fight, to struggle, but he forced himself to remain still.

“You cost me a pack,” Brian growled in his ear, voice slurring around his fangs. Stiles felt the hand tighten around his neck, fingers curling in, and came to the sickening realization that it didn’t matter how still he was--this guy meant to tear his throat out. “Maybe...I’ll just take something of his in return.”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and prepared to try to throw him off (he knew he had no chance of succeeding, but fuck if he wasn’t gonna go down without a fight), when a deafening roar cracked through the silence of the night. Brian’s grip on his neck loosened in shock just as Stiles suddenly untensed in relief.

Brian was ripped away from him, claws just slightly grazing the side of Stiles’ throat, and he slid down the side of his jeep, clapping a hand against the shallow scratches. Scott stood in front of him, breathing hard, hands clenched into fists at his side. Stiles couldn’t see his face, but he could tell that Scott was completely wolfed out.

“Stiles,” he growled, not looking back at him, “are you okay?” 

Stiles pulled his hand away from his neck; it was covered in blood, but not as much as he thought. The scratches stung like a bitch but he was pretty sure they weren’t life threatening. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“If you’d killed him,” Scott said, louder, as Brian got to his feet, “you’d be in pieces right now. True alpha or not, I would have killed you.”

“You cost me everything!” Brian spat. He bared his teeth, and Stiles almost didn’t have time to get himself out of the way before he leapt at Scott, roaring. They crashed into the side of the jeep, claws swiping.

But Scott was an alpha where Brian was a newly-turned beta--technically an omega now, since he was packless. Scott lifted him clean into the air and slammed him back down onto the ground, knocking the wind out of him, and from what Stiles could tell, breaking a few bones along with it. There were deep gashes in his side where Scott had caught him with his claws; those weren’t healing anytime soon. Brian tried to pull himself off the ground again, but Scott kicked out--another crack as ribs shattered.

Brian didn’t get back up.

“You leave Beacon Hills,” Scott ordered, calm but with a kind of power that Stiles felt in his bones. “You leave and you stay gone. I see you anywhere near him, anywhere near any of my pack again, you’ll wish I’d killed you tonight. Am I clear?”

Brian glared up at him, and for half a second Stiles was sure that he was about to protest, about to try to fight again. Stiles knew that Scott’s threat wasn’t a bluff; he’d kill Brian tonight, if he needed to. But the fire in Brian’s eyes died quickly and he nodded. Scott nodded back, once, then turned toward Stiles, who was making his way to his feet.

“Shit, are you hurt?” Faster than what should have been possible, Scott was there, a hand on his arm, helping him up. Stiles ached more than he thought--Brian had hit him pretty hard.

“I’ll be okay, just need to--”

The world stopped. Scott’s mouth was on his, and shocked, Stiles kissed back purely on instinct, turning his head to fit them better. It was pretty chaste, all told, but it send shocks through Stiles’ nervous system, weakening his knees. They lingered for several long moments that felt like hours, before Scott pulled back slowly. His eyes opened; they glowed like beacons.

“I-I’m sorry,” Scott stammered, “I shouldn’t have--” But he didn’t let go and Stiles didn’t pull away. His head was spinning, he felt dizzy and off-balance.

“But you’re--you’ve never--” he mumbled, his mouth moving too slow for all the words in his head, because his entire life just shifted.

Scott glanced back at Brian, who was beginning to recover. “We should get inside.”

Being in his bedroom didn’t make anything better. Once Stiles had sat down heavily on his bed, Scott took the computer chair, putting space between them, but it didn’t make much of a difference. The tension was thick enough to cut.

“So…you kissed me,” Stiles said slowly, honestly not knowing what else to say.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Scott began, sighing, “I shouldn’t have done it, I shouldn’t have assumed--” He broke off and waved a hand like it was supposed to convey what he was trying to tell him. “I’m just, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“You shouldn’t have assumed...what?” Stiles asked, frowning. “You’ve been acting weird since the party, what’s going on?”

“I’m not gay,” Scott said bluntly, which really threw Stiles off, because wow, non-sequitur. “I like girls. But you started talking about how you wanted to kiss guys, and I didn’t even know you wanted that, and I--” He stared into Stiles’ eyes and sent butterflies through his stomach, “I wanted it to be me. That you kissed.”

“You’re straight,” Stiles replied, weakly, because it was the only thing he trusted to come out of his mouth. Scott shrugged.

“I guess,” he said, “I mean, I don’t like, check out guys or anything. But, I like you. I think you’re attractive, and you’re a guy, and I guess that means I’m...not straight?” He frowned, like, he’d just confused himself.

“So what you’re saying is…” Stiles continued slowly, the pieces finally clicking together, “You wanna kiss me?”

“Stiles, this doesn’t have to--”

“I can kiss you?”

It got so quiet in the room, he could practically hear Scott’s heartbeat from where he sat. His own was probably just as loud to Scott. And then, in a burst of movement, Scott had leapt across the room and over to the bed, took Stiles’ head in his hands, and brought their mouths together, hard.

This time, Stiles was half-ready for it, and responded enthusiastically. They were awkward for a few moments in the way everyone is awkward when they first kiss, noses bumping together, teeth getting slightly in the way. But even if this was new to them, they knew each other well enough to settle into a comfortable position quickly. One of Scott’s hands was on Stiles’ waist, the other pressed up against the side of his neck that wasn’t scratched. Stiles felt the slightest hint of tongue against his lips, and parted them, dipping his own into Scott’s mouth, hesitantly.

They were both breathing hard when Stiles fisted a hand in Scott’s shirt and pulled him back so they could lie back on the bed. Scott moved with him, slipping a thigh between his.

Scott pulled back, looking down at him. His pupils were blown and his lips were bitten red, and Stiles had never felt so turned on in his life.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Scott panted, eyes flicking down to Stiles’ mouth and back up. “Obviously, I’ve never done this with a guy.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” Stiles replied. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. Hell, we don’t have to do anything at all. Do you want to get back up?”

Scott shook his head quickly. “No, no, I just, I might be bad at it.”

“Yeah, dude, I really doubt that.” Stiles grinned and pulled Scott back down, fitting their mouths back together. Scott shifted for a better angle, and it brought their hips together.

They were both hard.

Stiles wasn’t sure how far this was going to go, but he trusted Scott. It was nothing like it was with Brian. Sure, he was nervous, but the normal kind of nervous. Like the kind of nervous he felt before lacrosse games, or at school dances right before you ask a pretty girl to dance.

But then Scott moved away again. He looked sheepish and apologetic. “Actually--maybe that’s a little too fast?” He moved back, out of Stiles’ lap. “Sorry. I just--”

Stiles sat up with him. “Hey, no, it’s okay. I told you, we don’t have to do anything.” He leaned in and kissed Scott, softly. “You wanna watch a movie? I can probably dig out Avengers.” He grinned as an idea came to him. “We could make a blanket fort!”

Scott snorted. “We haven’t made a blanket fort since we were 13.”

Stiles pressed their foreheads together. Making out or not, he loved this guy. “Well then I think we’re long overdue for one.”

The next day, Malia took one look at them and cracked up.

Kira handed her twenty bucks.

 


End file.
